


Nothing false and possible

by dotfic



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Crack, Humor, M/M, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-24
Updated: 2009-10-24
Packaged: 2017-10-20 18:16:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/215715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dotfic/pseuds/dotfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel is allergic to MSG, and he doesn't react to it like humans do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing false and possible

**Author's Note:**

> Set in the same ['verse](http://dotfic.livejournal.com/tag/syntax+%27verse) as The Syntax of Things, but you don't have to have read the prior stories to read this one. Title is from ee cummings. Beta by [](http://www.livejournal.com/users/smilla02/profile)[**smilla02**](http://www.livejournal.com/users/smilla02/) , who hasn't gotten me to cater to her every Castiel whim yet, but I'm sure I'll crumble shortly. Thank you to [](http://www.livejournal.com/users/aesc/profile)[**aesc**](http://www.livejournal.com/users/aesc/) for being my Latin guru.

The house seemed about right, not so new it made Dean feel out of place, not so old that anything was always falling apart, so they could leave on hunts for days or weeks at a time and pretty much count on it still standing when they got back.

There was discussion about Castiel being able to transport pieces of furniture -- most of it hand-me-downs from Bobby -- the way he could transport people, and Sam insisted it wasn't right even to ask it, and Dean said but why not use it if you've got it, and Castiel frowned and said he wanted to carry things the way Sam and Dean would do it.

"It's...important." Castiel looked down suddenly at his shoes.

Dean shut up about it after that.

Once everything was out of the pick-up and inside, Sam went to work on unpacking his many, many boxes of books. Some he'd stored at Bobby's, some he'd bought when it looked like they were getting the house -- Sam was Powells.com's new best friend. He flipped up his middle finger in response to Dean's crack about once a nerd, always a nerd.

Dean and Castiel hauled all the duffel bags upstairs, and then Dean flopped down on the mattress in his room (there was no bed frame yet), kicking off his boots. Castiel stretched out next to him.

"Hey," Dean said, rolling onto his side to face Cas. He propped himself up on his elbow with his head propped against his hand, the amulet that hung around his neck falling against the pillow. Castiel needed a shave and one tuft of his dark hair seemed to stand up more vehemently than the rest.

He looked ordinary -- he'd finally gotten in the habit of wearing jeans and a t-shirt instead of corporate wear -- in a way that Dean kept noticing, and if ordinary was noticeable, then maybe it wasn't so ordinary.

He'd rather not try to figure it out. Cas certainly took the prize for being the weirdest good thing that had ever happened to Dean.

Castiel just looked back at him a moment, his gaze moving over Dean's face before he swallowed, then leaned in and put his lips warm against Dean's jaw with a rasp of stubble. The amulet rested bright on the pillow between them as Castiel kissed his way up to Dean's mouth, and Dean pushed his fingers into Castiel's hair.

It also seemed weird having a permanent address, but it was easy not to think about that either, with Castiel aligning his warm body along Dean's, the mattress dipping under their weight.

* * *

Dean should've known better than to feel so relaxed, because really, since when had their lives ever been easy and uncomplicated for more than five minutes?

On the day they moved in, they ordered Chinese food delivered, several of the most expensive dishes on the menu, to celebrate the house and being alive and the world not ending and a lot of other things that started with Sam being in that chair across the table from Dean.

Castiel never had Chinese food before, although he'd had everything from fried crawfish to escargot in the past few months. The guy would eat things Dean didn't even want to contemplate -- he seemed curious about everything. Snails, for fuck's sake. No way was Dean going to eat any freakin' snails.

Dean would never stop finding Castiel's first attempts to navigate the chopsticks for the first time hilarious. He dropped the sticks to the table, picked them up, and stared at them, corners of his mouth drawing down. Then his fingers flicked the chopsticks into position and he tucked in like he'd been doing it his entire existence.

After a few minutes, though, Castiel stopped eating, went still with the chopsticks holding a piece of chicken mid-way to his mouth. His eyes went wide.

"What?" Dean said, mouth full of egg roll.

"I..." Castiel shook his head and popped the piece of chicken into his mouth. He tilted his head to the side as he chewed and swallowed. Then he put down the chopsticks and directed a kind of thousand-year-old stare up towards the ceiling.

Now Sam had stopped eating, his forehead crinkling up with his worried thinky face. "Cas?"

"I feel odd." Castiel stopped staring at the ceiling and leaned back in his chair.

"Odd...how?" Sam's voice had that tone in it. That _this had better be nothing but it's probably something and we're fucked as usual_ tone.

Castiel belched. Which wasn't a first, given how he'd been eating like a mofo since the apocalypse ended, but he didn't do it often or this loud and it still seemed strange to Dean having Castiel make that kind of noise.

It wasn't the big ways Castiel was seeming more human all the time that got to him, it was the small stuff. Brushing his teeth, humming along to music in the car, the fact that he turned out to be ticklish.

"Actually...I feel pretty damn good," Castiel said, with a vehement nod.

"Oh. Uh, well, that's good." Dean went on eating. Maybe Cas was having one of his existential moments.

They went on eating, and Sam started to tell them about a possible case he'd found, several dead bodies discovered in a warehouse a few towns over with their intestines removed and symbols painted on the ground around them.

"Dude. I'm eating," Dean said.

Castiel _giggled_.

"Um..." Sam glanced at Castiel, then at Dean before his shoulders twitched and he went on. "Okay, so anyway, it turns out that all the victims had..."

Castiel started laughing.

"You want to share with the rest of the class, chuckles?" With a hiss-pop, Dean opened a bottle of beer with his ring.

"I...don't know." Castiel sank down in his chair, and the laughing subsided to small choked sounds and gasps.

"...so all the victims had gone to the same doctor, the same hairdresser, the same...what?"

Still slumped in his chair, Castiel was looking from Dean to Sam with a big grin on his face. "I love you guys," he said.

Dean took a swallow of beer to push back the twitch of panic in his stomach. He so did not want Castiel going all chick-flick moments, especially in front of his brother. It was embarrassing enough when they were alone, but it happened rarely, and it usually took the form of Castiel saying a few cryptic words in a slow, deliberate way that always sounded a little like confession, sometimes in languages Dean couldn't even identify, let alone understand.

"You guys are _awesome_ ," Castiel said loudly, dropping the chopsticks.

Seriously, Castiel needed to stop picking up on Dean's phrases. "What's gotten into you?" Dean lowered his bottle of beer.

"The bond between the two of you is a beautiful thing." Castiel rested his hands, palms flat, against the formica tabletop, his tone so earnest it was like it was six months ago, and Castiel was telling them some crucial piece of angel lore regarding the apocalypse. "It represents what is best about humanity, the connection that exists one to another. This is what my father envisioned."

Sam gave Dean a frantic, puzzled look that just screamed _he's your weirdass angelic boyfriend, do something_.

"It was part of what made me fall." Castiel slumped even lower in his chair if that were possible, like a string had been cut, and let out a long, sad sigh. "I had brothers once."

 _What is wrong with him?_ Dean mouthed at Sam.

 _I don't know!_ Sam mouthed back.

"Great love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends," Castiel intoned. Then he grinned, snapping from remote and freaky and kind of...holy...to looking like some guy, some regular guy who'd had one too many at the local pub. Like the man Castiel's form was in imitation of, who was hopefully sitting down to dinner with his family right then and had almost forgotten what it had been like being chained to a comet. "You guys are the _best._ "

He sat up straight and looked from Sam to Dean. " _Et factum est cum conplesset loqui ad Saul anima Ionathan conligata est animae David et dilexit eum Ionathan quasi animam..._ " He trailed off. The look on his face was like a godamned knife into the middle of Dean's chest. Castiel looked like he might cry.

"Dude," Sam said, keeping his voice low and even. Dean knew that soft tone in his brother's voice, the one he saved mostly for terrified civilians. When Sam used it on him, Dean always knew he was deeply screwed, it meant he was probably bleeding out or in shock or possibly had just told Sam something he would've preferred to keep to himself. "What's going on, Cas?"

When Castiel went for another piece of chicken, Dean clamped his fingers around Castiel's wrist. "I think maybe you've had enough."

Licking sauce from his lips, Castiel turned a long, slow gaze on Dean, and Dean felt a flush rise into his face. It drove him freakin' insane that Cas could do that to him, no matter how much Dean tried not to let it happen.

"It's pleasurable to look at you," Castiel said flatly, like this was no big thing, just the way the world spun.

Dean didn't dare look at Sam, but he heard the muffled snort across the table.

"Uh, thanks?" Dean heard his own voice come out a little strangled. There were times when Castiel was a bit _much_ , the contained power he held in his ordinary-looking body making everything seem more than what it was.

He found himself stroking his thumb over the hard knob of Castiel's wristbone, and let go. He pushed his chair back.

Castiel was humming under his breath, a tune Dean found vaguely familiar, although he couldn't place it from anything in his cassette collection.

" _Why do birds suddenly appear, every time you are near? Just like me..._ " Castiel got to his feet. " _They long to be close to you..._ "

His singing voice was nice, a light tenor, but Dean leaned over and banged his forehead against the table several times. "Sam, just shoot me. Shoot me now."

But Sam was too busy being doubled over in silent laughter to be any help in mercifully ending this. The jackass.

" _Why do stars fall down from the sky every time you walk by?_ " Castiel was really getting into it now, spreading out his arms.

He really did kind of have a nice voice.

"Okay, that's it." Dean launched himself at Castiel, got his hand clamped over his mouth, stifling the next line. "No more singing!" He pushed Castiel up against the sink.

Castiel blinked at him over his hand and mumbled something, lips moving against Dean's palm, that might've been _it wounds me that you don't like my singing_ or _kindly remove your hand from my mouth before I smite you where you stand._

Sam was hooting with laughter now.

"You could make yourself useful here," Dean snapped, turning away from Cas but keeping his hand over his mouth. There would be no more Carpenters singalongs, not under his roof.

"It's probably the MSG," Sam said, after several, shaky deep breaths. "He's allergic."

"Yeah, but people who are allergic to MSG just get headaches and stuff. They don't--" Dean stopped; Sam had folded his arms, eyebrows raised expectantly. "Oh," said Dean. "So this is some kind of weird...angel...biology thing. Isn't it."

"Apparently."

Castiel seemed to have settled down, so Dean lowered his palm, and Castiel immediately grabbed a fistful of Dean's shirt. " _Ut mos est tuus, applicansque collum, iucundum os oculosque suauiabor,_ " Castiel murmured, his voice low and rough, leaning in so his mouth hovered an inch from Dean's. " _O quantum est hominum beatiorum, quid me laetius est beatiusue?_ "

"I don't know what that means, but it sounds dirty," said Dean, before Castiel kissed him.

For a few moments, Dean kissed him back, while Sam made himself very busy putting lids on the half-consumed containers of Chinese food. Then Dean pushed Castiel away, because while this was pleasant and all, Dean wasn't sure he wanted to do that while Castiel was off-the-charts loopy on a flavor-enhancing substance that turned out to be angel crack.

"I like you," Castiel said, right before his eyes rolled up into his head and he slumped forward.

Dean caught him as he fell, his body a boneless weight in Dean's arms.

"Castiel? Hey, Cas." The panic swept through his stomach, sharper, different than before. He almost dropped Castiel as he shifted his grasp, fumbling to put two fingers against his neck.

Sam was already there, crouching nearby. "Dean?"

"His pulse is strong." Dean felt like he'd just run fifty yards over hard ground with a chupacabra on his heels. Castiel's eyes were closed, head flopped against Dean's shoulder, breathing slow and even.

"I think he'll be okay," Sam said quietly. "Just needs to sleep it off."

"All right. Yeah." He tightened his grip on Castiel. "Okay, buddy, let's get you upstairs." He lifted Castiel, putting him over his shoulder with his arms hanging down along Dean's back.

"You need help?" Sam rose to his feet as Dean staggered towards the kitchen door with his cargo.

Castiel wasn't that heavy -- Dean'd had to carry Sam like that a time or three, and Castiel weighed a whole hell of a lot less than Sam. "Nah," said Dean. He felt Castiel stir and mumble something completely unintelligible, his face against Dean's t-shirt. "I got it." He paused. "Thanks, Sam."

"He'll be okay," Sam said.

Dean carried Castiel upstairs and lowered him onto his back on the mattress. Castiel's breaths were even, and when Dean checked his pulse again, it was still normal. But he was out for the count.

He found a blanket and put it over Castiel.

"You are a piece of work, you know that?" Dean said, looking down at him as he slept.

* * *

Dean was dozing in a chair next to the bed when Castiel woke up a few hours later and let out a groan.

"Cas?" Dean snapped fully awake.

"My head." Castiel's face scrunched up and he ducked under the blanket.

"Yeah. It's called a hangover."

"But I only had half a beer." Castiel's voice was muffled from being under the blanket.

"Sammy says it's the MSG. Monosodium glutamate, in the Chinese food. They put it in for flavor. Some humans are allergic and they get a headache. With you it..." Dean stopped and rubbed his knuckles across his chin. "Hang on a sec."

He went into the bathroom, found a bottle of aspirin, and filled the glass with water.

When he got back Castiel was half-sitting up.

"Here," said Dean, shaking two aspirin into his palm. He handed them and the glass to Castiel. "Take these."

Castiel did, wincing as he swallowed. Dean sat down on the mattress, his hip resting against Castiel's leg.

"I recall behaving in a very unbecoming fashion," Castiel said.

"You could say that."

"Shit," said Castiel.

"Hey, it happens to everyone. And we just didn't know about the MSG thing. Now we do."

Castiel put the glass down on the bedside table and rolled over, putting his back to Dean. "It's embarrassing."

"Yeah, I know."

They waited in silence for a while. There was a thud from downstairs, as if Sam were moving bookcases, a muffled shout that sounded like _son of a bitch_ , and then more furniture-shifting sounds. After a moment, he heard the stereo go on, playing some alternative crap Sam was into. The stereo was a joint gift from Bobby, Ellen, and Jo. Sam and Dean had tried to refuse it until Bobby finally yelled at them to stop being idjits.

Dean sat with his elbows resting on his knees, facing the wall. He heard Castiel's slow breaths behind him, and then a sound like he was trying very hard to stifle another groan.

Turning, Dean lay down so his chest was against Castiel's back, his arm curled over him, his palm against Castiel's chest.

The song playing downstairs ended and another track started up, something acoustic. Cas edged himself over to tuck himself against the curve of Dean's body.

"I said things."

"Yeah, you did," Dean said, smelling a trace of Chinese food as Castiel turned to look at him.

Castiel turned away again before he added, "It was all true."

As he brushed his mouth against the base of Castiel's neck, Dean felt Castiel's fingers catch and twine around his.

Castiel's eyes closed. Dean thought he might've gone back to sleep.

So Dean said, very quietly, "I like you too."

He felt Castiel's fingers tighten.

~end

Quoted material:

+John 15:13

+I Samuel 18:1-4; "That same day, when Saul had finished speaking with David, he kept him and would not let him return any more to his father's house, for he saw that Jonathan had given his heart to David and had grown to love him as himself. So Jonathan and David made a solemn compact because they loved the other as dearly as himself." (Latin and translation from [](http://www.livejournal.com/users/aesc/profile)[**aesc**](http://www.livejournal.com/users/aesc/) )

+"Close to You" by the Carpenters

+[Catullus Poem 9](http://www.vroma.org/~hwalker/VRomaCatullus/009.html)


End file.
